These thin walls couldn't keep our rage between us. Our stinging words would leak out between the space of the door ways and fill the house like rising water. The walls would pulse with anger creating more cracks for our disconnected language to seep through. And we would die drowning in the chaos.

So instead we stay silent. We lay on opposite ends of the bed and let time sit between us. We hold our tongues while we let our hearts sink into the lava boiling inside of our bodies. We wrestle with our own inner monologue arguing with words unsaid. Going back and forth between ourselves thinking that's what the other would say. Coming up with reasons why we're more angry than the other; silently resenting every second that passes by. Eventually we'll both fall asleep with heavy minds and burnt hearts.